Esther and Vashti
by ashkenazi-autie
Summary: A year after the events of the Book of Esther, the Queen stumbles upon the King's harem and finds the former monarch she replaced.


It has been a year since I and my people nearly escaped the bloodshed that the King's former advisor had intended. That man had been executed, my uncle was given a rather lofty position, and my people had survived, thanks to me, though it still feels like I did nothing. Yet, Mordechai constantly reminds me that my actions were no small feat, which does little to assuage my doubt, and at this point, I simply pretend to be reassured by his words so I don't have to hear them again. I usually try to forget about it, which is completely ineffective, because when the King decides to parade me around the city, the biggest admirers are the families that would have been slaughtered had I remained silent.

No longer does the King restrict me to the chamber where I sleep and do my business. I'm now free to roam the castle halls, which often results in me barging in on private meetings he has with his advisors, my uncle being one of them, but the King doesn't mind it so much. The advisors get mildly annoyed, but the King simply stands and greets me, asking how I'm doing, and I tell him that I'm fine and that I won't continue disturbing the meeting. He would later take me into his bedchamber, apologizing for not paying attention to me, and then remind me that, eventually, I have to give him a son. That last part still unnerves me, but I know I'll get over it with time, and I try to think of what parts of motherhood I would enjoy.

Today, when I walk around the castle, I make sure to avoid the rooms where he typically holds meetings, and I venture down a hall I don't usually go through. Before, I had been warned not to go there, as that would lead to the harem, but I need something to take my mind off of everything that has been bothering me, so I indulge in my curiosity and cautiously walk down. The hall is just like every other hall; appropriately decorated, the occasional painting here and there, and the furniture no less than the very best. I stare at the door at the end of the hall and proceed to approach it, but once I'm in front of it, I worry if there will be some sort of punishment for me entering. I remember that the King has gone out for the day on some sort of business, so I sneak in and gently close the heavy door behind me.

Several women are alerted by the noise made by the heavy door and stand up immediately in my presence. Some of them could be ten years older than me, some of them could be my age, and some in between. Seeing older men and women stand in reverence to me still feels quite strange, and the women here seem strong enough to overpower me quickly. Their stares make me feel self-conscious. They must be surprised that I would see them.

"Queen Esther," they all murmur.

I try my best to stand tall and appear dignified, but it's obvious to them that I feel incredibly awkward here. A good number of them are only scantily clad, which isn't much of an inconvenience to them, as it is nice and warm and the King would probably strip them of their clothes whenever he wants. All of them are far more experienced than I, which makes me think of what the King would think of me once he beds me. I suddenly regret coming into this room and turn around to leave when I hear a chilling voice from the back of the room call my name and my name only.

"Esther," I hear.

I turn around and see one woman sitting on a bed in the back of the room, casually examining her nails and combing through her dark hair. She holds her head high, much better than I ever could, and she rises with such grace that I could hardly think she was a plain prostitute. There is a certain regal air about her and her gaze seems to pierce through me. Something sets her apart from the rest of the group, yet I could not tell what it was, which frightened me and intrigued me simultaneously.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" she asks.

I gaze at her one more time, and finally, it hits me.

"Vashti," I reply.

She smiles. I recognize that smile from a distant memory in which she and the King paraded around the city, waving to all those that swarmed around them. Vashti, once a beautiful Queen, now rots here with the rest of the harem women, waiting to be called to the King's bedchamber to satisfy him. One defiant action on her part and she was denied everything; status, political power, the love of the citizens. What stands here before me is a shadow of the regal beauty she once was, yet I could still see the same fire she contained within herself.

"My Queen," she greets, oddly friendly. "It's about time we have met."

She takes a seat on a nearby bed and everyone who had once occupied it moves away, treating her like she still has some status. She must be so bored in here, imprisoned in the walls of the harem, never to step outside. Vashti examines me, noticing the lovely detail that adorns my dresses, and sighs.

"I admit, I was expecting more," Vashti sarcastically tells me. "The way the King talks about you, I thought you'd be the epitome of fairness."

I glare at this woman. She was no longer the Queen, she had no right to talk to me this way, and frankly, she hasn't done half of what I did. Her remarks about me immediately shut out my ability to empathize with her and, in my opinion, it was for good reason.

"Sorry saving my people wasn't enough for you," I reply.

Vashti simply chuckles. "You were plucked from the middle of nowhere. I, however, came from nobility."

"And look at you now."

Vashti's lips purse into a grin and she lets out a sound that tells me she is both amused and impressed. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are more than just innocent beauty."

At this point, I begin to huff. "Haman took that away. It's a little difficult to remain innocent when your nation is on the line."

Vashti raises an eyebrow. "The King's nation?"

"The Jewish nation."

She quickly changes the subject, still not directly looking at me. It's obvious she still sees me as a child, despite all evidence, and I wonder how much I have to bend over backwards to get the respect of this forsaken monarch. Immediately, I turn around and grab the door handle when Vashti speaks up again, this time, her voice less harsh.

"The King loves you," she says. "We can all tell. He loves you more than anything."

I stop dead in my tracks as she speaks again. "Letting you interrupt meetings like that? If I ever did that, he'd go insane. And to think he let you live when you arrived at his chambers uninvited."

I don't turn around to face her. Instead, I run my fingers on the door handle, wondering how much she will say before I leave and try to forget that she's here. I hear faint footsteps approach me from behind and feel a hand touch my shoulder. Slowly, I turn around to face Vashti, whose countenance appears much softer now, and I sigh.

"Go on," she whispers. "Be Queen. Be what I cannot."

She gives me a gentle kiss on the cheek and I immediately flee that room, closing the door behind me. I try to steady my breathing and walk in as much of a disciplined manner as I can, lest I encounter anyone on my way back to my private room, where I will be tended to by my handmaidens.

That night, the King sends a messenger to my room. The messenger knocks on my door and I answer it myself, seeing that he is no older than twelve years old. He stands as poised as he can, saying the simple, "your majesty," before telling me what the King wants.

"The King wants you in his bedchambers, Queen Esther," the messenger stammers out of nervousness.

"Does he?" I ask. "I'll be there shortly."

Once I dismiss the messenger and finish preparing myself, I swiftly go to the King's bedchambers, where he patiently waits with an eager smile on his face and an odd lump in his pants. I can already tell that he is tiring of the harem women and wants a legitimate heir. I don't smile back, but he doesn't respond to this, and I wonder if he is deliberately ignoring this or is simply oblivious.

"Come, Esther," he says, his arms outstretched, and he pulls me in for a kiss.

I wince a little bit, but he continues to put his hands on me, and I think of what Vashti whispered to me earlier that day and the kiss she planted on my cheek. I suddenly start to wish that it was Vashti showing me such tender kindness rather than this man here, who had once agreed to an edict that would have me beheaded.

Even with the King showing me such affection and intimacy, all I can think about is the Fallen Queen.


End file.
